


Promise

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward First Times, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Bunker, Fluff and Smut, Gay Panic, Human Castiel, Kissing, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was acting strange. Well, stranger than normal. Heck, even stranger than he had been when he first Fell over six months ago. Dean had been living with the guy since then, and even in the early months of Cas’s humanness he hadn’t avoided Dean as much as he did this morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

Castiel was acting strange. Well, strang _er_ than normal. Heck, even stranger than he had been when he first Fell over six months ago. Dean had been living with the guy since then, and even in the early months of Cas’s humanness he hadn’t avoided Dean as much as he did this morning.

It was quite a feat, really, considering that the Men of Letters’s bunker was big, but not that big. And he and Cas shared a room…and a bed. But not in that way, Dean always hurried to admit to himself. He figured that something in Purgatory made both of them seek closeness with one another after being separated so often and for so long.

Still, it made Dean squirm uncomfortably whenever Sam brought it up. His brother  _had_  gotten more tactful lately, used to it by now, but every so often, an innocent question would rear its ugly head, like:

“Did you want to clear out a room for Cas?”

Dean never knew how to answer him, and so he would pretend that he hadn’t heard Sam correctly or wait until Cas came into the room to state that he was happy where he was (which always made Dean secretly relieved). He was far from ready to talk about these kinds of things, especially since he was already so messed up inside. He envied Sam his openness and honesty, and simultaneously hated himself for his own cowardice. These were just feelings, right? How hard could it be to sort them out? Did it really have to be so complicated?

Sometimes, he’d catch himself wondering what his dad would think if he were still hunting with them. Would he think it was weird that Dean shared his bed with another man, who, technically,  _wasn’t_  a man? Or at least, hadn’t always been one, and this was just his vessel? Dean could picture his dad’s eyes, feel the judgment raking over him, and in the pit of his stomach he would feel a cold shame writhing, coiling and uncoiling. After all, John Winchester’s true love was Mary Winchester. They were a man and a woman. That was how it was. Dean could pretend Cas wasn’t a man, that he was some divine entity, but in reality, Cas was human flesh now. He was a  _man_. And as much as Dean hated that he slept beside him, he also yearned for it and didn’t want it to end.

Dean had no idea if Cas felt the same way. Sure, they had a ‘profound bond’ and all that crap, but the ex-angel had barely been sane when he first curled up in the chair in Dean’s room.

Cas had been humiliated, lost, frustrated, and downright suicidal after his Fall. It had taken all of Dean’s efforts to convince him to stay, only because the idiot thought he needed to figure things out on his own as he had in Purgatory during those solitary months before Dean and Benny found him. Dean had yelled at him, demanded where he would go now that he was mortal and couldn’t just zap places, and Cas had looked at him with those broken blue eyes and finally Dean had begged him. Pleaded with him. Tried to reassure him that things would be okay, that he and Sam forgave him and could teach him how to be human and how to  _not_  die when they were hunting (though they didn’t have the best overall track record on that score).  

Sam hadn’t been there to hear how Dean’s voice cracked, how Cas’s shoulders had slumped in defeat even as he thrummed with guilty tension. They had been in Dean’s room, and Cas had sagged into the chair, shaking his head and denying that he had any use at all now that his Grace was gone and he couldn’t help people like before. It was the first and only time Cas spoke openly about his shame, and though he hadn’t said a word since, Dean would catch it in glimpses of his expression, his lowered head, his shadowed face.

But lately, those glimpses had been increasingly less frequent. In fact, Dean had thought they had finally settled into a rhythm. Training, exploring the bunker, reading, listening to music, watching old movies, cooking, shopping, fixing the Impala. And of course, hunting, though they had taken on fewer cases recently to try to record their experiences first. Sam wanted to document everything and had even started a journal much like their dad’s, but even more informative with descriptions of names and places and what exactly they did to deal with the monster of the day. He was a true Man of Letters, and Dean was proud of his dorky little brother. Sam was turning into the next Bobby, surpassing even Garth to the extent that they had other hunters calling  _them_  for advice.

Dean thought it was a great change, and he liked being settled in one place. Heck, he even liked the domestic side of it. Shopping had become something of a pleasure, and he and Cas had logged in hours at the nearby supermalls, browsing anything and everything as it was new to both of them. They bought new clothes for themselves that were actually  _new_ , and Dean even got a part-time job at the town’s mechanic to try to bring in more honest dough.

Dean had been  _happy_ , and thought Cas had been happy, too.

But now the ex-angel was avoiding him, and with Sam gone to help some young hunters battle and document a new threat, it was just the two of them. Or, actually, the one of them, as Dean was currently alone in the kitchen, putting together a sandwich. After he got the fixings just right, he sat down to eat and glared at the emptiness of the room, hating how loud his chewing sounded in the silence.

After several, unbearable minutes, Dean heaved a sigh and decided to track down Cas to end this once and for all, despite the pit in his stomach.

Dean found the ex-angel in the library, propped up on a chair, poring over some ancient tome covered in dust. Cas always amused him because of how he used his human vessel and somehow still found it comfortable. At the moment, he had his legs to his chest, his elbows balanced on his knees, and the old book lifted high over his head, with his neck crunched back at a weird angle.

Dean folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching him with a fond smile. It was amusing but also sad, because this is all Cas would ever be. He could never return to his true form. He was stuck, as he had once told Dean in a moment of desperation. Though, Cas was quick to follow that up by saying it was also simpler as a human. After describing his true form to Dean, Dean found himself agreeing, if only because there were a lot less limbs and wings involved.

“Hey,” Dean said by way of greeting, catching Cas’s eye for a moment before the ex-angel hurriedly tugged his gaze back to the book.

“Hello, Dean.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Are you avoiding me, Cas?”

Hesitation. “No.”

“Uh huh. And that’s why you skipped breakfast, and haven’t said squat to me all day?”

Cas pouted into his book. “I live here, too and can choose to spend my day how I wish.”

Dean frowned and stalked forward. “Come on, what’s going on?” His guts wriggled worriedly when Cas literally flinched away from him as he approached. “Cas, what happened? Was it a nightmare or something?”

When Cas Fell, his first few weeks of sleep were plagued with nightmares. He would wake up beside Dean screaming, his hands clawing at his head as if Naomi was still drilling into him. Dean would try to calm him down by leading him to the living room, where they had set up a projector to watch old films. Distraction was Dean’s solution, and since alcohol quickly proved to be disastrous, as it made the distraught ex-angel remember his new humanity when he threw it all up, Dean had turned to movies. They watched Charlie Chaplin and The Three Stooges over and over and over until they fell asleep right there on the couch or managed to slink back to their bedroom.

Cas had been nightmare-free for a while now, or so he thought. Was it possible Cas had relapsed and was now hiding them from him so he wouldn’t worry?

Cas glanced at Dean when he put his hand on his shoulder, but the look in Cas’s eyes was not one Dean expected. He thought surely there would be fear, anger. But what he read in those blue depths was some kind of hopeless longing and desperation. A sudden thought flooded him with dread.

“Did you tap into the angel radio somehow?” Though Dean knew Anna’s situation was quite different from Cas’s, there were some overlaps. He didn’t know what he would do if Cas started hearing the angels again and felt the urge to reenlist. Or worse, if he heard that the angels were hunting them and wanted to stamp out Cas’s existence forever. Would they need to add more wards to the bunker?

“No, Dean,” Cas said, and his voice sounded miserable. “No…you were closer the first time.”

“So you had a nightmare?”

“No. It…it was a dream.”

“A dream? So it was good, or are you having visions or something?”

Cas’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “No, not quite.”

Dean exhaled in annoyance. “Well give me something, here! Something’s wrong, right?” He met Cas’s eyes and watched as they flooded with familiar guilt, but also something like… embarrassment. The ex-angel’s face flushed.

“It’s nothing that should concern you. It was a dream. A good dream. A…very human dream.”

Dean was quiet for a few beats, his eyes narrowing in thought, and sudden realization had him barking out a laugh.

“A wet dream? You had your first wet dream?”

Cas’s face was pained but Dean just clapped him on the shoulder. That certainly explained why Cas had bolted to the bathroom almost the instant he woke. Dean let out another burst of laughter.

“Aw, come on! That’s not so bad! You’re finally getting to the good stuff! Who was it with? Some foxy broad?” He put his hands to his chest and mimed breasts, winking at Cas, whose expression was exasperated.

“No, Dean.”

The gravity of his tone made the smile sputter and die on Dean’s face. When he next met Cas’s gaze, realization thudded into his chest and he almost staggered backward.

 _Oh my god_.

“Me?” he stammered, and Cas nodded slowly.

“I apologize. I don’t know if it’s normal for…for… _friends_ ,” he said the word unsurely, “to dream about each other in this way.”

Dean was grateful that Cas chose to describe their relationship as a friendship rather than a brotherhood, or whatever other complicated things it could be called, because that would’ve made it worse. Dean started to laugh it off, but then he thought about it, and a spike of heat shot through him. It felt wrong, but there was a small voice that thought it was hot. Dean fought with himself, trying to clamp down on the voice, all too aware that Cas was regarding him in that eerily penetrating way of his, undoubtedly confused as to why Dean’s laughter had bit off and now he wasn’t saying anything.

“Dean? I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“Offended? No, I’m not offended,” he said too quickly.

Cas stood up, placing his book on the chair. He squinted at him. “Dean?”

 _Shit_ , Dean thought as he watched Cas’s expression grow sad and ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said again, and Dean kicked himself.

“No, I’m not…it’s not… I…” he faltered. It had been so long since he had had any. That was why the idea of sex was turning him on. Not because he wanted to— No, God, that was wrong. It was wrong. It was  _wrong_. He wasn’t…

“Dean?” Cas repeated, and when Dean looked at him, that tiny voice in his head screamed encouragement. Was it possible that he was…? In the moment that thought appeared in his mind, he watched Cas’s eyes widen imperceptibly. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

“I can’t… I can’t…” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. He froze when he felt Cas move into his personal space, close enough that he could feel the ex-angel’s gentle breaths. Jolts of heat surged through his body, collecting at a place that didn’t care if he thought two men doing it was disgusting. That place knew what it wanted, not what it shouldn’t want, and when Dean opened his eyes, Cas was staring at him in a way that made Dean think of one word:

 _Lust_.

“Oh shit,” he breathed as Cas moved to cup his face in his hands. “Shit.” His body betrayed him and he leaned into Cas’s touch. “I’m… Oh shit, I’m…I’m  _gay_.” The hatred that lanced through him, the shame and disgust at himself for feeling that way, was enough to propel Cas backward in shock.  

“Dean,” he said, and his voice was sad. Dean felt an irrational impulse to cry, and somehow managed to stay upright even though he wanted to curl into a ball and sob. He was a hunter. He loved Busty Asian Beauties. He had slept with countless women, had maybe even loved a few of them. Cassie popped into his head, then Lisa, and Dean was bombarded with emotions too conflicting to make sense of. He  _did_  love women. But at the same time, his body was pulling him in a different direction, toward the being, the  _man_ ,in front of him. He wanted so badly to give in, but it was  _wrong_.

Dean didn’t realize he had sunk to the ground until he felt Cas kneel beside him and rub his back like Dean had done for him after every nightmare for weeks. Dean wanted to sob into Cas’s shirt even as he wanted to tear it off, but he was shaking so badly that he did neither thing and just sat there, overwhelmed.

“I’m sorry if—” Cas started, and Dean fiercely interrupted.

“It’s not your fault, okay? I’m messed up.”

Cas was thoughtful. “How? How are you messed up?”

“I shouldn’t want… I mean, it’s wrong, right? All you people seem to think so. It’s wrong. It’s unnatural. It’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and—” Dean’s babbling cut off abruptly.

“No,” Cas said, his warm hand still soothing. “It’s not wrong. Love is love. We do not judge.”

Dean’s chest felt like it was on fire or like it was getting crushed. He wanted so badly to believe Cas, to let go, but what would his dad think? What would Sam think? But then he remembered Sam’s face, his knowing expression, his willingness to shrug and let Dean do what he wanted as long as it made him happy.

Sam knew. Damnit, of course Sam knew! And he…he didn’t care. He didn’t hate Dean for it. He wanted Dean to be  _happy_.

Cas was still rubbing smooth circles into Dean’s back, and Dean concentrated on that touch, feeling how it lingered, how strong it was. Blood began rushing again, and Dean hadn’t felt this turned on and lightheaded for a while, not even with his Anime porn and dirty magazines.

“Cas,” he said, and the ex-angel’s ministrations instantly stopped. Cas moved to kneel in front of him and as he took in the acceptance and resignation written on Dean’s face, he cocked his head.

“Do you…want to?” he asked, and Dean was satisfied by the hitch in Cas’s breath as he spoke.

“Do you even know how to? Aren’t you still…?” Dean asked, and Cas shook his head.

“I was Emmanuel once, you know. I…had a wife.”

Dean grinned. “You dog, you.” His amusement faded slightly when he thought about what was going to happen. Did  _he_  even know what to do? The voice reminded him of all those years ago, when he first discovered the internet and for the heck of it had looked up gay porn. He had watched a few minutes and clicked out of it very fast, but not before refusing to admit how turned on it had made him.

Now…he felt the same nerves that had claimed him during his first time. Nerves and excitement and longing and –

“You think too much,” Cas said, stopping his thoughts as he pressed his chapped lips to Dean’s, gentle at first and then more forceful, urgent. Dean gave a surprised cry but melted into it. Some faraway part of him thought how weird it was to feel scratchy stubble on the face he was kissing, but as Cas dragged a hand down his cheek, the two textures made him shudder. Cas’s fingers picked at the edge of his shirt and then wormed their way to his bare chest. Goosebumps pebbled his skin.

It was embarrassing how quickly he reacted, how every touch, every stroke of Cas’s fingernails on his skin, made him feel unbelievably hot. He was already panting, though Cas was too, which made him feel better. Neither of them had had any action in a while, and he could see that Cas was getting very turned on by all these human sensations… And now Dean wanted to touch Cas, to feel his chest and his body, which was his now whether he liked it or not. Pushing Cas back, Dean fumbled with the button’s on Cas’s shirt and then slid his hand onto the hairy planes of his chest.

It was amazing how new it felt. He had done this hundreds of times with all different sizes and types of women…but never with a man. Never with Cas. And even though part of him was still repulsed, that part was buried underneath beneath layers of  _want_ and  _yes_  and  _so good_.

They stayed that way for what felt like hours, just exploring each other’s flesh, nibbling and rubbing and moaning. Dean felt tingly and warm even with his shirt off, and his breath hitched when Cas placed his hand on the mark he had left on Dean’s body. Suddenly, the whole situation seemed mad, impossible, and Dean let out breathy laughs as he thought about the absurdity of what they were doing.

This was Cas, an angel he had corrupted to stand by his side, fight with him, protect him, save him. Castiel, his brother, his family, but so much more. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t had sex with an angel before – even though Anna turned psycho he still kind of missed her. It’s just that…this was so different. This angel-turned-human, Dean’s blood for all intents and purposes, who had finally made Dean confront his own sexuality…they were  _together_. In a Biblical way, or almost there anyways, as he could feel himself pressing up through his jeans. This was the most bizarre thing that had ever happened to him, and Dean had been through some crazy shit. It felt almost surreal, but then Cas was tugging down his zipper and touching  _him_  and Dean let a sigh escape him as all thoughts flew away again.

“Stop thinking, start feeling,” Cas said breathlessly, quoting Dean back when Dean was telling the ex-angel how to feel human.

“Okay,” Dean replied, his hips thrusting upward as Cas teased him. Their shirts were long gone, but they worked together to pry off Dean’s pants, and then Cas’s, until they were both in too-tight boxers that left little to the imagination.

It then occurred to Dean that they were still on the floor in the library. As his bleary gaze focused on the ceiling, he reluctantly pushed away Cas’s hand. The ex-angel actually growled at him, lifting his head and revealing eyes glazed with desire. Somehow Dean was still able to get turned on, though he managed to grin and speak.

“Shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?” he asked. Mentally, he added,  _Where we can get lube and condems_. He had only the faintest idea how sex with two men would work, but he knew they were both virgins to this, and needed to make it as easy as possible.

They both rose to their feet and it was like the trance broke. They stared at each other, suddenly awkward. Dean snuck a peek to where Cas was tenting his boxers and blurted out the first the first thought that came to mind.

“Holy shit those are really white. You use bleach?” Dean envisioned punching himself.

“Oh. I do, yes.”

“Um. It works well. Looks…good.”

“Thank you.”

“So, shall we?” Dean gestured toward their bedroom and Cas nodded.

Dean’s chest tightened the closer they got, until finally, they were inside and Cas took a seat on the bed.

“Dean, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just wondering who’s uh…who’s gonna take it in the ass?” Dean cringed. “Uh, I mean…”

“We don’t have to do anything.”

This was stupid. Dean had had way more sex than Cas, and here he was, fidgeting like a virgin. Well, he  _was_ technically a virgin to dude sex but…

Dean lost his breath when Cas invaded his personal space yet again. He smoothed a hand down Dean’s cheek and Dean leaned into it, swallowing.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

“You were doing fine before.” Cas winked and Dean burst out laughing.

“Did you just  _wink_  at me?”

“Did I do it incorrectly?”

“No! It just…never mind.” With a chuckle, Dean pulled Cas to the bed and they both sat. “So. Tell me about your dream. How do you…want this?”

“I just want you. In whatever way you’re comfortable.”

“Okay. Well. I got stuff. But I think we gotta get clean first, right? Or—” He yelped when Cas’s hands cupped him through his boxers.

“Why don’t we start simple?” Cas said. His fingers caught on the elastic, and he edged his way inside.

Dean jolted and scooted out of reach, closing his eyes. “Damnit. I’m sorry. I don’t…”

Why was this happening? This was Cas. Cas, who had seen him at his worst. Who had rebuilt his  _body_ , for Christ sakes. Cas had seen _everything_ , but here Dean was, still afraid.

Which was stupid because this was just sex. Right? Just sex, but sex with  _Cas_  who was so important to him…

Horrified, Dean realized his eyes were burning and tears were streaking down his face. He angrily swiped them away until Cas grabbed his wrist and forced Dean to meet his eyes.

“I can’t ruin this,” Dean whispered.

“That’s right. There is nothing you can do to ruin this.” Cas brought Dean’s hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. Dean trembled as Cas kissed down his arm, then over his shoulder, then up the side of his neck. Dean allowed himself to be pushed back against the bed while Cas straddled him, still peppering his body with soft kisses. When he got to Dean’s nose, he sat back and bopped it with his finger.

“Boop.”

“Hey! That’s not funny,” Dean groused, but Cas kissed away his fake pout. “How did you get so good at this?” Dean added a moment later, while Cas trailed kisses down the other side of his neck and then his collar bone.

“I know you.” He paused. “And I dreamed of doing this.”

Dean huffed. “Bet I wasn’t a big crybaby in your dream.” Dean felt Cas’s smirk against his skin. “Wait, I was?”

“Like I said, I know you.”

“My god. Are your wet dreams always so…?” He bit off the word ‘sappy’ because Cas was still mapping out Dean’s skin with his lips and Dean couldn’t find it in him to complain. He giggled a little when Cas reached a spot on his stomach, and Cas prodded it to elicit more laughter.

By this point, both of their erections had flagged even though Cas was poised just over Dean’s groin. After all the hot and heavy action earlier, Dean would’ve normally been well on his way to post-coital dreamland were it anyone else, but this was Cas. For once, Dean was okay with going slow.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Mmm?”

“Can we…not…? I mean, maybe tomorrow or…but not…”

“Of course, Dean.”

Cas trailed his hands down the length of Dean’s body, his rough palms catching on Dean’s hair and making him suck in a breath.

“I’m sorry. I want to make your dream come true.” God, had he really just said that?

“You already have. You’ve done everything for me. Even after the horrible things I’ve done.” Cas balanced on his haunches, his expression somber.

“Hey,” Dean said, shuffling to sit up without throwing Cas off. Now it was his turn to hold Cas’s face. He gently thumbed the stubble there and couldn’t stop his hands from wandering up to comb through the tousled strands. His heart beating loud in his chest, Dean stared into Cas’s eyes and brought their lips together. It wasn’t fast or urgent like before, but slow, passionate.

A promise.  


End file.
